Sarah Versus the Decision
by Steampunk.Chuckster
Summary: Post-series finale. Sarah has made a decision that will dictate the rest of her life. Charah. Canon.


**A/N:** Hey, all! Someone shared that they were having a rough few days and asked if I could write a one shot with Charah fluff. Instead I wrote this. It felt really really good and really cathartic to write it, and I hope that person gets something from it as well. I hope you all get a bit of a breather from the world reading this. And that you can come back to it any time you need to and have a brief respite from whatever you're going through.

And don't ever let anyone make you feel bad for getting some comfort from fictional characters. They're just assholes.

Enjoy!

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It was cold. _She_ was cold. But she could see the dim light through the window, a window she sort of remembered climbing through sometimes, maybe to keep from alerting his sister that she was there, or maybe…maybe to avoid that ridiculous, embarrassing 'get it, buddy' Morgan would mouth to him whenever she used the front door to sleepover at her boyfriend's place… Back when Chuck had been her boyfriend and not…her husband.

Because even though she'd been gone for a month and a half, that didn't change that she was a married woman. Both legally and…well, in every way. And even though she wasn't _sure_ how she really felt about all of this, and about him, she knew beyond a doubt that she wasn't willing to go on without _trying_. Maybe he'd understand. He seemed like an understanding guy.

He had to be understanding if he'd fallen in love with _her_. And not the Sarah she became in the last five years, but the one she was back when she could actually remember who she was. Screwed up, hard, scared, and really, _really_ good at lying…at _killing_.

But things were slowly coming back, weren't they? Small things drifting into her consciousness when she was asleep. Little moments she relived in her dreams that she clung to when she woke up again. Even the bad moments, moments that hurt to see. She knew they were all real memories. She had a feeling in her gut that they were real.

Maybe the more she remembered, the easier this would be.

Either way, she was here, standing in front of his door, hoping he was awake, even though it was barely seven in the morning, the sun still not completely risen. She rang the doorbell, unconsciously pulling at her leather jacket, moving her hair she'd let grow out a little in front of her shoulder, fluffing it a little.

And in those last moments before he opened the door, she thought of the emails General Beckman had forwarded to her from him. How warm they were even though she could tell he was actively keeping a lot of himself out of it, the I love you's and other things he'd normally say. How good she'd felt reading them. Knowing there was at least one person out there who cared about her…more than cared. He'd chosen to spend the rest of his life with her. It kept her warm at night.

She'd eventually realized she was lying there at night with thoughts of him keeping her warm, when she could be in Burbank with more than just thoughts of him keeping her warm. The real thing–Chuck Bartowski. Even though she didn't know him, she trusted him. She could trust him with herself. She had before. And…she trusted that she'd known what she was doing then.

The door opened and he stood there in his pajama pants, his white T-shirt, his hair a little longer, curling at the ends and mussed from sleep, his handsome features scrunched up as though she'd woken him up with her knock on his door. He just gaped, speechless for the first time since she'd met him after having her memories erased.

Her heart ached with something she didn't really understand as she saw that the hem on his right sleeve was folded up, a little crooked. And she reached out to fix it, inadvertently tender, gentle.

"Thank you," he said under his breath, just as gentle.

Feeling ridiculous, she closed the distance and cupped his face in her hands, moving up to her tiptoes to kiss him. When his arms slid around her waist, closing against her back and pulling her closer, she melted into him and slowly dragged her hands down, rounding his neck with her own arms.

She distantly heard the sound of the door shutting behind her as she used his shoulders as leverage to wrap her legs around his waist, letting him hold every last bit of her weight.

Without another word, he walked them down the hallway and into the bedroom.

}o{

"What is this?"

She shivered at the feeling of the backs of his fingers stroking down her bicep. She disguised it by squirming to make herself more comfortable on the mattress, tucking herself further inside of the sheets. Did this guy not have a heater or something, she wondered?

"I…don't know," she answered quietly. "I know what you want me to say. That I remember everything. That everything is back to the way it was…before." He mercifully didn't answer that, instead just listening, and she could see why she'd fallen in love with him as hard as she must have. Hard enough that she still felt it in spite of the memories of him being wiped from her mind.

"I don't remember everything. There's a lot I don't remember. But it's been coming back. Some of it. Slowly. That isn't why I'm here."

She paused long enough for him to respond. "Why are you here?" he asked without a hint of bitterness or derision. He genuinely wanted to know. The honest to God truth, she knew. So she'd give it to him. As best she could.

"I left an entire life behind when I left. And I left not really knowing if I'd come back, which was…" She shook her head, deciding not to go that route. "But it came to a point where I realized I had two options. It wasn't just a life I'd left behind. It was a happy life. I was truly happy, wasn't I? Here. With you. With…whatever it was we were doing. Whatever _I_ was doing. I was happy."

"You were. We both were. Not without a few downs to the ups, but mostly ups. The downs weren't that important in the grand scheme of things. Because we were happy." He wrinkled his nose and she giggled, reaching up to gently tug on one of his curls. Her eyelids fluttered as another memory came back. She was naked, like this, but in a bright hotel room, in spite of the curtains being shut in an attempt to keep the sunlight out. And she was with Chuck, but he was a little younger, his hair longer. She remembered being a little groggy, tired, but supremely satisfied and happier than she'd ever been in her life before that. She'd reached up and twirled one of his curls around her finger, giggling when he'd asked, "Whatchu doin'?" in a sweet and boyish tone of voice. It was the first time she'd done that, she knew. But certainly not to the last.

His hair wasn't long enough to twirl a curl around her finger, but she played with one all the same. "I'm not sure I deserve this. You. But you seem to think I do. And I must've thought I did, too. Enough to marry you. _Really_ marry you."

He didn't do her the disservice of reiterating that point to drive it home, knowing she knew it was true, knowing he didn't have to, that she didn't need to hear it again. Instead, he smiled softly.

"But like I said, I have two options. This…here…I could be happy again. But that means trying. So my options: I could stay away, take mission after mission after mission after…mission," she smiled a little bitterly, shutting her eyes for a moment. "…or I could… _try_. I spent eight weeks not trying, Chuck. And every part of me was screaming to try." She let out a long breath. "This is me trying. And I promise I'm going to keep trying, as long as you promise to be patient…" She swallowed, not bothering to fight back the tears. "Because this is going to be hard. But I'd rather have hard with someone I trust, someone I think I…somewhere inside me…Somewhere inside me, I know I love you as much as I trust you. I'll find that again. I know I will. But I have to try for that to happen. And I'm going to try. I just need you." She swallowed a sob and chuckled at herself, rolling her eyes a bit, embarrassed by the outpouring of emotion.

He didn't laugh at her. He didn't look uncomfortable or unsure. He wasn't embarrassed.

Instead, he looked supremely sure, confident…And with a strength she wasn't entirely prepared for, he cupped her face and looked right into her blue eyes with his amber-colored ones. "We'll try together. You'll find what you're looking for, Sarah. And even though it might be hard, you're worth it. We're worth it. And we _always will be_."

"It might take awhile," she said, even as she knew with every fibre of her being that it wouldn't really be that long. She loved him. She didn't know him… She _loved_ him _._

"However long it takes."

He was genuinely sure of it. She knew. But even if he hadn't been…she was.

"Do you think…you'd mind…a little more trying, though?" There was a sparkle in his eye as he teasingly ran a hungry gaze down her body, wiggling his eyebrows.

She laughed. Even as she dove on top of him. She laughed, knowing she'd done the right thing. Knowing she'd look back on this morning for the rest of her life, grateful that she'd had the self-preservation–the courage–to do the hard thing.

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 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! Leave a review! I love those! I'll try to respond as I get time. KEEP THE CHUCK LOVE STRONG! SOLIDARITY, CHUCK FANS.

 **-SC**


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